Angel of Death
by Delilah Draken
Summary: [WIP - VAMPIRISM] What does it mean to be a true Sith? What does it truly mean to follow the path of Darkness? What, if not eternal pain in the shadow of an angel's wing?
1. Prologue

**Title:** Angel of Death  
**Author:** Delilah Draken  
**E-Mail:** delilahsdarkness@yahoo.de  
**Website:** www.delilahsdarkness.de.vu **Rating:** PG-13 (for now)  
**Fandom:** Star Wars  
**Pairing(s):** n/a  
**Sequel/Series:** n/a  
**Status:** Work In Progress  
**Started:** February 20, 2004 - 12.39 hrs  
**Finished:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** The stories are mine. All the rest - characters and locations you've heard of in TV shows, movies, books etc - belong to their respective owners. I am just borrowing them.  
**Summary:** What does it mean to be a true Sith? What does it truly mean to follow the path of Darkness? What, if not eternal pain in the shadow of an angel's wing?  
**Warnings:** a bit of violence (nothing too graphic), vampirism, angst - the usual.

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**_~ * ~ Angel of Death ~ * ~_**

by  
Delilah Draken 

.

.

_~ Prologue ~_

.

_When all is lost and no rescue is at hand. When all you ever wished, all your heart ever desired is taken away from you. When the time comes to follow your destiny, to walk down the path to destruction, what will you do? What will happen when all is done and nothing remains? What will become of the galaxy when your so called good intentions show their true face and you are confronted with your sins? _

What will happen when you die?...

.

The answer, my little darkling, is simple. Nothing. Just plain nothing. People will live or die, despite what you did. They will love or hate you and you can't change a thing about it. 

So, the real question is, what will you do? What will you decide? Do you want to live and maybe, maybe you will get a second chance? Do you want to die and be a part of your elusive idea of perfect afterlife? 

.

Or do you want to stay in between? Always walk the shadows? Neither light nor dark? 

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~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

.

I remember the old legends. How they told us that angels were the most beautiful beings in the whole universe. How they warned us to never fall into an angels trap. 

I remember my mother once told me that I was an angels gift. How she was so alone and miserable that an angel came from far away and fulfilled her greatest wish. How he gave her something to love and cherish. How the angel gave her me, a tiny helpless bundle with blood red eyes, to protect. 

I remember many things. I remember the look in her eyes when she thought me asleep. I remember how she always evaded to answer questions about me. I remember how she wanted me to be free. 

"An angel is a restless being." she would say when, tired from a hard days work under my master's command, I would sit down and gaze at the stars for hours. 

I remember the day my eyes turned blue. How afraid I was. How she hugged and kissed and always told me that I'm not gonna die. "It's just your way of growing up." 

I didn't understand her then. 

I remember the Knights' arrival three days later. How they made a frightened little boy trust them. How they talked me into winning a race I never really wanted to win because it was all too easy. 

I remember my own angel, my beautiful queen. Her face full of laughter and happiness. That I hurt her, I will never forgive myself. 

I remember...

.

"I see you're awake again." an all too cheery voice tells me as my eyelids are pried open and bright light fills my vision. My reflexes demand I move my hand and protect my eyes, but I'm not even capable of this simple motion. 

_Not again._

I hear breathing. Mechanical. Rhythmic. Healthy. And just too painful to think about. 

_Not again. _

.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

.

_Your decision, darkling. I'm waiting. _

"Let me..." 

You have to speak a bit louder, darkling. I can't understand you.

"Obi-Wan..." 

What is with him? Do you believe he would help you? 

"Obi-Wan..." 

I'm not a patient man.

"I want to kill him." 

That is better, darkling. 

"I want my revenge." 

So you have decided...

"Father..." 

I'm happy to oblige, little darkling. But remember, you won't ever get a second chance to escape. 

  
.


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Note:** All medical terms used in this chapter exist only in the imagination of the author. Also do I apologize if one character sounds a bit... well, strange and out of character. So please don't skin me and burn my corpse on a stake. 

.

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_~ Chapter One - Carnor Jeren ~_

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_"Mama..."_

Hush, little princess. Don't cry.

"But..."

Yes, I'm going to leave you, but you won't be alone for long. My darling, remember what I told you about angels.

Remember I love you.

.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

.

"Wake up, fighter. You're late for school."

School. That is what my brother calls my job. If asked, he only says I'm going to school to make the family proud. Never once did the truth leave he lips. Never once did he even think the truth.

Rebel. That is what I am. A rebel fighting against a megalomaniac despot. And all my big brother can say about it is that it's a kind of school for me. A way for me to find my destiny.

As strange as it may sound, that is exactly what I'm doing. I'm not with the Rebellion because I believe in what they do. No, I'm with them because it was the only way for me to do what I was taught to do. I'm with the Rebels because, even with an age of only fifteen years, I'm one of the best pilots ever to leave the Academy.

"This is the fist warning. You won't get a second chance. The Emperor is not as forgiving as I am."

I have to smile at my brother's antics. Only he can make that sound funny.

I leave the bed and walk to the computer terminal. Once activated, the screen should show my brother's laughing face. But today he is not smiling. What happened...

"Quoting dad's boss again, bloodshed?" I ask him with a smile that feels more like a fake limb than anything else.

"I'm coming for you. Be ready to leave your Rebels in three days."

_What in the name of all thirteen Sith Hells?_

"You can't control my life, brother. I'm..." I wanted to say more, to tell him how angry it makes me when someone tries control me, but he just tells me the one thing that shuts me up more perfectly than the black angel himself.

"He's dead, fighter."

_No._

No, that can't be true.

No...

"You're lying. That is not true." I whisper. Somehow I can't bring myself to speak louder. Shaking my head, I'm going backwards till my legs touch my bed. I have to sit down.

He can't be dead. Not him. Not the reason I left home and joined the Rebellion. He can't be dead.

_I never got the chance to tell him I love him._

.

Hours later, and I still can't believe what my brother told me. True I fought at the battle, piloted one of the fighters which attacked the station, but it just can't be true. I know it is not true. I feel it in every fibre of my being. He is not dead.

Vanished. Stopped from living. But not dead.

_He's too much of an angel to just die._

And so I wander the halls of victory, our not so glorious battle ship that orbits this sanctuary moon. I wander without knowing my destination, aimless, without purpose, only knowing that I will find him earlier than I ever wished.

How I found my way to the doors of the infirmary I can't remember. How long I stayed in front of these foreboding gates to everlasting pain, I don't want to think about. Though it warms my heart to know that I despise the white halls of healing as much as my black angel.

A loud crash makes me leave my musings. A voice shouting choice words only reserved for annoying surgeons makes me return to old, ingrained habits. Makes me act again like the ten year old child I was the day I first laid eyes on him. And with all the confidence of a child that believes himself immortal, I stride through the gates of hell and follow the path that was my destiny since I met him.

"Stop being a baby." My voice is just loud enough to be heard above all the noise he makes with his temper tantrum. Sometimes he's so... childish.

"If you weren't such a coward and allowed Dad to fix your life support, you wouldn't have these problems all the time. It's how long, more than twenty-five years since this butcher put his hands on you and you still don't trust a qualified surgeon. Stop being an obnoxious brat and do what you are told."

That shuts him up. To tell the truth, the whole infirmary is gone as still as death.

"And what, my dear Carnor Jeren, gives you the right to say this to me?" His voice is as soft as silk, and only a fool wouldn't know that he is the most dangerous when sounding like a spoiled courtier.

"The right is mine, because my father isn't here at the moment, oh great master of darkness. And someone has to knock some sense into your thick, doctor hating head."

This makes him smile. Well, okay, to say he smiles would be like saying a Hutt isn't a corrupt crime lord. My black angel doesn't smile. There is only this tiny sparkle in his pale eyes that makes you realize that you won't die in the near future. At least not through his hands.

"Than, heir of Professor Carnor Jocvin, explain to this... _doctor_, exactly why I refuse to accept a Class IX Devublin."

A bit more sarcasm and one could believe he is talking about the construction of another Death Star.

"Because Class IX Devublin are organic." Now I look at the young doctor who dared to even suggest such a thing. "And every idiot who survived the first month at med school knows that a Type XIX quadriplegic with a Midi Chlorian level over 50.900 will get the life expendency of a Therolian fruit fly it they are equipped with an organic transplant."

I can't suppress a facial expression that can only be called smug. Swallow that, idiot. Now I understand why my black angel only allowed my father to treat him. Now I understand. Most physicians are fools who know nothing about what is needed to give an angel-bred the chance at survival.

Angel-bred. How long, since I last thought in the old terms of Iego? High level of Midi Chlorians, they call it now. Angel-bred are the children called who are born like this. But the angels of Iego were never able to use the Force like the angel-bred born on other worlds.

Mother explained it to me. The reason for the blindness to magic the children of Iego show is the absence of natural light on the inhabitable moons. The only angels with magic were pure blood. Pure and of eternal thirst. And these angels faced their extinction millennia ago.

"Who are you?" the doctor asks me. I answer the only way I am able to, with the truth.

I tell him that my father is the private surgeon of Darth Vader and that it would be becoming to his health if he did what my Lord, who at the moment is doing what he does best - even if he is chained to a medical bed - namely, looking like he knows at least two thousand ways to end your life as messily as possible with only a finger, suggested.

With this said, I leave the infirmary. A smile of happiness on my face.

.

I only realize that the man behind the white gates of doom, the man whose whole being just screams Dark Lord of the Sith. This man with the pale red eyes I always knew a pure blood angel possessed. This man can't be who I imagine him to be. He can't be Darth Vader. He just can't be. He is too young.

Though... I've heard that angels are often reborn after death. That they return like they were the time they drank blood for the first time.

But it is impossible.

_Impossible..._

.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

.

_"Who are you?"_

That is of no importance, princess.

"Who are you?"

You have to protect my son, little fighter. You have to protect the last son of darkness.

"He really is..."

Yes. He is my darkling.

"Than he doesn't need my protection."

He needs you more than you can imagine. Be there. Be his guardian.

Be his way... 


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note:** For those who didn't read the comic books, Carnor Jax is the villain in the fantastic 'Crimson Empire'. But I won't make him the same somewhat lame character as the 'archenemy' of Kir Kanos. As for A'Sharad Hett, as far as I can remember he is the padawan of Ki Adi Mundi. A'Sharad is the son of Sharad Hett, a Jedi who chose to become a Tusken warrior.

Furthermore, I want to explain that although Carnor Jeren is viewed as male by everyone - even her own family - she is a woman. It is only an integral part of the culture of Iego's people to raise their daughters as men. Think 'Lady Oscar' if that helps you understand what I mean.

Also do I apologize for the lack of Luke/Vader interaction in this story at the moment. It will come later, I promise.

Delilah - March 25, 2004 

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_~ Chapter Two - A'Sharad Hett ~_

.

_What are you?_

"I am my father's son."

What are you?

"I am a warrior."

What are you, little boy?

"I am Tusken."

That is all you need to know...

.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

.

I have always known.

For as long as I can remember, I have known. The power hiding behind his all too innocent eyes, the potential for a cruelty that has never seen its like. I have always known. It was impossible for me to not see it.

.

But did happen what I feared? Did the Great Suns lose their fire? Did the Heir follow a path of darkness? No. All that happened was that a lonely boy grew up to become a lonely man. A soul as restless as his can't be chained down, not even if it is in the name of love.

And love he did his queen. I have seen it with my own eyes. It was a love that couldn't last. Too intense were the emotions. Too hot burned the flame of passion. Too much of a burden the pain of being in one place.

So he went away. Never to return. Never to hear of his wife's fate. He just vanished.

Till now...

.

_*BEEP...*_

Sands, I hate these infernal machines. Who ever invented the means to measure time should be skinned, quartered and slowly tortured to death.

_*BEEP... BEEP...*_

Okay, okay. I'm awake. Just shut up, in the Krayt's name.

But it isn't my alarm clock that makes this annoying noise. It is my communicator. Damn, I knew I forgot something important.

"What." I growl at the black screen.

"Get decent, Ash. I have to talk to you."

Decent he says. Decent. Does he remember that is takes at least half an hour to bandage my head properly? Of course, he remembers. He just doesn't care. But he wouldn't be Carnor Jax, if he acted any other way.

I let him wait.

"Damn it, Ash. Get out of your crypt and open the damn channel. I don't have the time for your games."

How cute. I've made him angry. That will show you how to behave in the company of a master, boy.

A distinctive smirk appears in my face. How fortunate that I wear face wraps. He would lose even the tiny ounce of respect he has left in him, if it weren't for that fact.

Only after I finished dressing with putting red tinted goggles over my eyes, do I open the channel for visuals.

What I see impresses me. It looks like some of my lessons didn't meet with as many deaf ears as I first thought. Instead of seeing the naked face of a non-desert infidel, I come face to face with a man who knows how to honour his elders. And honoured I am because he wears the full battle armour of the Crimson Guard.

"What is it, Jax?"

"Didn't you listen to the news? He is dead."

I know who the boy is talking about. I also know that it is near to impossible to kill a true Sith. And I know Vader. Mr. Tall, Dark and Deadly is far too stubborn to die.

And so I do the only thing that comes to mind in such a situation. I laugh.

"I don't see the humour, Ash."

Of course, you don't see it, Jax. You didn't live under the same roof as a Sith Lord for more than ten years. You just don't know.

"Get Jeren." I tell him. "Get you brother away from the Rebellion. There will be some loud bang when the Heir returns."

With that I close the com channel, turn off the screen and begin packing. There is not much time and I have to be ready for his return.

.

My people call me the Shadow's Guardian. The one who walks the night in a world of never ending light. Never did I hear a truer word. For I am a child of the desert. I understand the need for cruelty. I also understand that there is no true evil. There is only twilight.

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~ * ~ * ~ * ~

.

_Where are you going?_

"Nowhere and everywhere."

Good answer, boy. But do you know what you are doing?

"I know that he is helpless without me."

And who is this mysterious man you seek to protect, son of Hett?

"Why, he is your son, Lord Sith." 

.

.

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

.

.

And now the answer to your question, 'The End'

Yes, the lovely Darth is the one who was called angel-bred by Carnor Jeren. As to his immortality, that lies in your definition of the word. In my little universe angels are not fully human, they are extremly long-lived and quite difficult to kill. But they are _mortal_.

Also remember the warning in the beginning, this is a vampire story. The 'Angels of Iego' are nothing other than sun allergic blood drinkers. This fact will be explained at a later point in the story, so please have patience with me. As to who is speaking in italics, it is always the same person talking to the 'hero of the chapter'.How to explain it best... he is the angel who 'gifted' Anakin's mother with a child, he is the one who saved Vader's life shortly before Darth got his suit, he is Sith.

Oh, and Sith is a name.

I hope that this cleared the fog a bit for you.

Delilah - March 26, 2004 - 17. 59 hrs 


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's Note:** My apologies again for my slow writing. Also, I hope that I didn't make the bounty hunter too out of character. If I did it anyway, please don't skin me. I'm working with what one can see in the Original Trilogy.

Delilah - April 27, 2004 

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_~ Chapter Three - Boba Fett ~_

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_Wake up, Hunter._

"Hurts..."

I know it hurts.

"Do something..."

And what am I supposed to do, Hunter?

"Something..."

Should I maybe fly down from the heavens and get you out of this oversized worm? Or should I show mercy and just kill you?

"..."

It's your decision, son of Jango.

"I don't want to die."

Really?

"I don't want to die."

But you don't want to live.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE."

Well, seems that today's your lucky day.

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~ * ~ * ~ * ~

.

I should have died in the desert. I was supposed to give that bloody worm indigestion. But no, I had to survive. Sometimes I really hate my life.

And now I'm here - where ever here is - and try to wake some long dead bloke. If anybody hears that story I can say Bye-bye to my reputation.

Did I already say that I hate my life?

.

He's not what I imagined, the corpse I mean. Swimming in a bacta tank, one could believe he's only sleeping. Sleeping like the warriors of Iego, waiting for the right time, the best chance to win the old war. And from what I can understand of the doctor babble in his file the corpse is officially not dead. No brain activity, hooked up on full life support, but 'not dead'. 

Makes one think about the definition of death.

Anyway, I'm to wait here. That's what the insane guy in the desert told me. Wait till the last child of twilight wakes up.

I'm bored.

Can you imagine what it feels like to wait for some stupid dead guy to wake up? It's more entertaining to watch a stone stand still.

More than four months. Four bloody boring months with nothing more to do than reading books that are...

.

_* CRACK *_

What was that?

_* CRACK... SPLASH *_

Oh, just bloody fantastic. Who did I kill to deserve such a punishment? I'm a bounty hunter, not a cleaning droid.

I hate bacta stains on my armour. They never get out. And look, the whole room basically swims in the despicable stuff. Can you say Urgh? Yes, you can.

Well, at least he's now awake.

Impressive body art. Most impressive. All that black and red. It suits him with his red eyes.

.

Red eyes?

Red Eyes.

RED EYES...

.

Why me? Why in the name of my family's blood, is it always me?

Isn't it enough that I am on Darth Vader's payroll? Isn't it enough that I trust the black avenger with my life? Obviously not, or I wouldn't be here.

Why didn't he tell me I'd have to play bodyguard for an angel?

.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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_"I hate you."_

My, we are angry today.

"Stay out of my head."

You amuse me, Hunter. Didn't my present amuse you?

"Present?"

Yes, the little gift I gave you. I believe he would be of help in your line of work.

"Are you speaking of the dead angel?"

Angels don't die. They change, but never die.

"And what is that suppose to mean, Sith?"

It means, my warrior friend, that you are on the threshold to immortality.

"..."

You should visit your employer.

"No, not again. I'm not doing it."

But you must.

"I don't care. I'm not doing it. He can protect himself."

But...

"I said no."

You can't avoid your destiny.

"I'm not playing babysitter for your suicidal son."

Remember your promise, son of Jango.

"An angel's soul flies fierce and free. An angel's heart burns cold and cruel."

"Yes, I remember, Lord Sith."

"But I still hate you." 


	5. Chapter Four

> **Author's Note:** My apologies for the long wait. I seem to have lost the reason of this story for some time. But now I've returned and hope that you like what I've written.
> 
> Oh, and I truly hope you got the joke with the doctor's name. Not? One word. Godzilla.
> 
> Delilah - June 27, 2004
> 
> .
> 
> P.S. I'm truly sorry I mixed the chapters up. 
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> _ Chapter Four - Jinar Gol _
> 
> .
> 
> _No, my friend. This is not a nightmare._
> 
> "Are you sure?"
> 
> Yes, Master Healer.
> 
> "Are you one hundred percent sure?"
> 
> Yes, yes. There isn't any chance you might walk into your mother here.
> 
> "That is not a very calming thought, you know."
> 
> Yes, I know, Doctor Gol.
> 
> .
> 
> "Well, then. Why am I here?"
> 
> To learn more about a patient of yours.
> 
> "And of which are you speaking, Sir?"
> 
> You know who I mean, Jinar.
> 
> "The anomaly."
> 
> Yes, him. But there is nothing wrong with his blood.
> 
> "Truly you jest, Sir. Never have I seen such strange blood levels. And I dare not speak about his genetic make-up."
> 
> Like I said, Jinar. There is nothing wrong with angel blood.
> 
> "Angel? There are no angels anymore. They faced their extinction more than ten thousand years ago."
> 
> It must be true if you say that.
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> Impertinent child. What does this little boy know of surgery? Who does he think he is? And why, in the name of the Great Library, aggravates this child me in such a way?
> 
> Really, that is no proper behaviour for a surgeon. Highly unbecoming. Truly scandalous.
> 
> What would Mother say when learning of my disgrace?
> 
> I don't dare to think about it. Even thinking about thinking about her reaction is too much at the moment. And so I return to what I was trained to do best. May the holy art of healing sooth my pained soul and help me forget the reason I left home.
> 
> .
> 
> So, my dear patient doesn't want to receive a Class IX Devublin respiratory system? I can only shrug at the man's insistence. It is his own fault if he doesn't appreciate my art.
> 
> And this is the reason I give him only the second best help he could have gotten from my hands. Though Fighterpilot Carnor Jeren's arguments were sound and I am willing to believe my red-eyed friend suffers from the 'Jedi-Syndrome', the last patient ever to be recognized as a victim of this illness died more than two hundred years ago.
> 
> In three days time, when he awakes again from the surgery, I will welcome his temper. For such a patient, so full of knowledge in the matter and with such a will to fight, will be a pleasure to guide to a complete recovery. I will find great amusement in our future arguments, that I am sure of.
> 
> .
> 
> _Well, my dear doctor? What do you think now?_
> 
> "I have to admit, Sir, that I made a mistake."
> 
> A mistake you say? And what, pray tell, did go wrong?
> 
> "I..."
> 
> Speak up, Master Gol.
> 
> "I suggested an organic implant."
> 
> YOU DID WHAT?!
> 
> "I said it was a mistake, Sir."
> 
> I hope that you will not repeat such foolishness. The consequences would be quite fatal.
> 
> "I understand, Sir."
> 
> Good. What else?
> 
> "He seems to have a fan club."
> 
> ...
> 
> "Am I allowed to ask what is so amusing, Sir?"
> 
> I always knew he has it in him, but this fast?...
> 
> "Sir?"
> 
> Nothing.
> 
> Return to your duty.
> 
> It was nothing.


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Note:** It seems to me that I'm one of the most slow writers out here. And for this, my very slow writing I apologize again. Is it just me, or am I always apologizing for the same thing?

Anyway, here is chapter five. I hope you like what I've written. And if there is this tiny little bit of OOCness with one character, I apologize for this as well. So, dear reader, please don't skin me.

Delilah - August 16, 2004 

.

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_- Chapter Five - Luke Skywalker -_

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_"It must be Hell."_

I don't think so, youngling.

What? Did I scare the little Jedi?

"... No. I'm not afraid. No."

But...

"It is a bit disturbing to meet you."

Of course, youngling. It would be quite boring if there wasn't a good light show.

"...?"

Infidels. The all of you. The galaxy truly has changed.

"Changed?"

Changed, little Jedi. Changed in a way that most Sith wouldn't even recognize their own birth planet.

"You are a Sith."

And the problem is?

"..."

Really, boy. Are you so cemented in your Jedi teachings that you can't see when someone wants to help you?

Hey. I didn't allow you to go.

HEY...

Children these days. No respect for their elders.

-

- / - / - / -

.

I walk down the halls of doom to await my punishment. Really, if it were so easy.

No, I don't have to fight this morning. No piloting in a space battle, no sword practice, nothing. Just the most feared moment in a soldiers life. At least in mine.

Doctor Gol wishes to meet me. Only some standard tests. Nothing really taxing, he said. I believe it was supposed to calm my nonexistent fears, make it more palatable for me to lie on an examination table in a mad scientists lab. That he is one of the best of his art doesn't even enter my mind.

Instead I have the distinctive wish to kill something. And it should be a slow and painful death, so that a true connoisseur can appreciate my efforts. Something with many broken bones and quite a little spattering of blood. Oh yes, something artful, something that deserves the name of destruction.

What am I thinking? Have I sunk so low that I cherish the thought of mayhem and bloodshed? Have I become... Dark?

.

With my mind on such disturbing things as my own sanity I enter the infirmary only to walk into a white wall. That said wall is nothing but a Stormtrooper's armour with a soldier in it I realize when my backside makes acquaintances with the oh so lovingly awaiting floor.

Ouch, that hurt. But what I see makes me forget any pain I ever had. It makes my mind go completely blank and lets me gape like the farm boy from a backwater planet that I am. Impossible, I tell myself. It can't be. It just can't be. But it is. As real as living, breathing beings can be.

For what I see that makes me act in such an unjedilike manner is at least a dozen Imperial Stormtroopers, as much officers and... can it be?... even a Royal Guard helping patch up the wounded as if they were not prisoners of war but the faithful minions of a demanding master named Jinar Gol. So absent minded am I that I don't see the looming shadow of a red clad warrior come over me. So far gone that I can't remember being lifted and put upon a medical bed to await the tender mercies of a man who prides himself on the absence of his bedside manner.

But it is not Doctor Gol who comes to look for whatever illness is supposed to threaten my life. It is the crimson monster that tries to examine my health. Obviously I can't help bit flinch away from the man.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you." comes a voice from the bed next to mine. A voice sounding like the one of a man who died days ago. A voice reminding me of the fact that now I really am alone.

I turn my head away from the invading and dearly despised touches of an - astonishing as it seems in an Imperial trained killing machine - fully educated medical officer to the man calmly sitting in a medical bed, surrounded by machinery whose names I can't pronounce, and looking for all the world like a king on his throne. That is, if it weren't for the breathing mask hiding the lower half of his face.

"Huh?" is the highly eloquent reply that leaves my mouth. Oh, the shame. Here I am, Jedi Knight and companion of a princess for nearly five years and the one thing that come to mind is 'huh'?

But it seems that I didn't make as huge a mistake as I think I did, for my neighbour only smiles. That is I think he smiles. One can only guess when sitting across a man whose face is behind a mask.

"The Colonel here," with that he points at the Crimson Guard "is a proud man. He doesn't like it when 'those who search' don't follow his lead in his field of expertise." Again with the instinctive reply that I wish would be something more, maybe a real word with syllables, and not these grunts that seem to love leaving me looking like a far greater idiot than I am.

"My Lord:" the silky tones of a Tatooine accented voice keep him from answering. "It is against the strict orders of Doctor Gol for you to be awake so soon after surgery." Did the voice come from where I think it came from? Yes, the Guard, the Colonel is speaking. "I will give you a sedative if you don't do what you are told and _rest_."

"I am resting, Colonel. Am I in uniform? Am I on my bridge and commanding my ship? Obviously not or you wouldn't get the chance to play Mother Krayt with me." Do I sense a bit of conflict in the air? 'A bit' seems more like an understatement. "So don't disturb me in my so called rest and do your job. Or do I need to contact Master Hett? He wouldn't like to hear that one of the best students of Yinchorr is not performing to perfection, don't you agree?"

The only reaction this creates in the red armoured man is a flood of curses in... is that Tusken? And what does the patient who acts like he owns everything? He laughs and says simply that no, he is no Ootmann, no Skywalker anymore, that the Suns are his sisters as well.

No Skywalker? What a strange way to tell a Tusken that one is a friend. Not that I've ever heard of a Tusken that can be trusted as a friend. And so I ask my strange neighbour what he meant with 'no Skywalker'.

"Don't tell me that a child of Tatooine knows nothing of Tusken mythology?" comes his disbelieving answer. What can I say to that than it is true, I know nothing of the Tusken and their stories because I grew up on a moisture farm.

He gets this strange look in his eyes and tells me, in a voice that seems to mourn for some heritage I never heard of, that G'nklr, the Skywalker is the son of Light and Fighter of Shadows. That Skywalker is a synonym for death in Tusken belief because they see the Suns, the godly twins, as their Bringer of Balance, because 'only in Light can there be true Darkness'.

He tells me of the Great Fall, how G'nklr died to be reborn as Ft'rvk, the Vader, brother of the Moons and Son of the Suns. How the once fanatical Protector of Light realized that he hurt his people with his deeds and that only Twilight can stand guard against those that seek evil. He tells me that every Skywalker one day becomes a Vader, that they find their balance in the Shadows.

This strange man with the red eyes tells me with these tales that the Jedi were doing wrong and the only way to right this wrong was to follow the Sith and destroy them all. Of course, he never says the words Jedi or Sith, he only uses metaphors of Light and Darkness, talks of Shadows and Twilight.

And if I think about it, he could be talking about any view of Good and Evil in every society ever known. Or is he really only talking about the Tusken way? I don't know. And I don't want to ask.

.

I leave the infirmary without looking back. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to be reminded that maybe I'm making a huge mistake with my following the Jedi path.

I don't want to be reminded of my Father's death. Don't want to realize that without me being a Jedi he would still be alive, that it was my fault that made him defy the Emperor and killed him, stole his breath and let him die in this cold prison of metal and technology.

I don't want to know. I don't want to think.

I don't want to be alone.

.

- / - / - / -

.

_This time, little Skywalker, you won't be allowed to run away._

"Leave me alone."

I thought you didn't like to be alone, boy.

"Doesn't matter. Can't matter."

Oh my, I should have known. You are like your mother.

"Don't you mean like my father?"

No, your mother. Your father may be a suicidal maniac with a taste for elaborate torture but he is not prone to depression. When your father feels like that he goes looking for something to kill.

You should have gone through with your fantasies of destruction, Luke.

"But I can't be evil. I can't succumb to the Dark."

Whoever said that you should. I just told you that you need a vent for your aggressions. Nothing more.

"That is the way of the Dark Side of the Force. To follow one's emotions, to succumb to hate."

If you won't listen I can't help you.

"I don't need help from a dead Sith Lord."

I'm telling you a secret, little Skywalker.

"And what lies do you want to tell me, Sith?"

I'm not dead.   
  



End file.
